


Satinalia Gifts

by Galaxy_Raven



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gift Exchange, Satinalia (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxy_Raven/pseuds/Galaxy_Raven
Summary: This is in two parts, because I received such a good prompt, I was inspired! First (Not-So-Secret Santa-nalia) is the attempted secret gift-giving between the Warden and her companions. Second (A Satinalia Exchange), we have a secret santa-esque gift exchange between the DA2 crew.I tried to make it very fluffy!
Relationships: Dragon Age Companions & Warden, Dragon Age II Companions & Female Hawke
Comments: 17
Kudos: 10
Collections: Holiday at the Retreat





	1. Not-So-Secret Santa-nalia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GingerBreton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBreton/gifts).



Zevran woke as he heard the shuffling in his tent. He tensed, one dagger already in hand. In the low light, he saw the warden, trying to creep close, trying to be quiet. Zevran kept his eyes almost closed, watching, waiting.

Perhaps the warden had finally decided to get rid of him.

…

Though, if she had, she was doing a terrible job of it. He almost spoke up, to give her some tips, she was so bad at stealth, her robes didn’t help her, the fabric rustling as it hit any resistance.

She put something near his pack and then stealthily -not stealthy- scooted out of his narrow tent and back out into the early morning.

Zevran really should have known better, someone as good and honorable as she would be unlikely to kill him while he slept. No she would probably challenge him to a duel, if it came to that. 

Laying in the pre-morning dark, curiosity won out and he reached out to pick up the thing she left, his deft fingers finding it quickly.

It was soft, corded. Bringing it closer to him, Zevran smelled it, the scent of leather, not Antivan leather, no, but leather all the same. Holding it up to the faint light, he could just make out the braiding of the bracelet, a simple little thing. Braided in a similar pattern to how the Warden braided her own hair. 

Zevran found himself smiling, a true smile that came easier these days, traveling with the Warden.

She had made this for him, hadn’t she, and tried to secretly give it to him. Him. An assassin sent to kill her.

She continued to surprise him, the Warden, talking to him, valuing his opinion and giving him gifts. Zevran had never quite had a friend like her. After he got to know her, he questioned whether she might be the first true friend he ever had. 

Zevran slipped the bracelet on and laid back in his bedroll, running his fingers over it, feeling the workmanship, the care that went into this gift.

_Why does she care so much for him?_

**

Leliana woke when she heard a light curse.

Not giving anything away, she recognized her friend’s form in the tent beside her. From what she could see, the Warden had crawled in, put something down, and was currently stuck, her robes snagged on Leliana’s pack.

Leliana had to fight off the laugh that rose up, watching from the shadows as her friend sorted herself out and slipped away.

_How strange…_

She waited a moment and once Leliana was assured she was gone, she propped herself up to see what all the fuss was for, what this peculiar behavior was all for. Her lithe fingers found soft knitted material. Holding them up to the light, dawn just starting to filter through her tent flap, she found a pair of fingerless gloves, a bit of lace along the edge of them. The color eluded her, but the care put into them was clear. 

A thoughtful, practical gift. She could wear them if she played her lute or shot her bow, keep her hands warm. Wherever did her friend find the lace? Leliana marveled. It was so pretty and delicate. A reminder of finer things.

Leliana held then close to her chest, smiling. The Warden had looked a little dreamy eyed whenever Leliana talked about fashion, having no experience with such things herself in the Circle. Yet she did her best to make this treasure for Leliana. 

_I must find a way to return the favor._

**

Wynne woke early, as she usually did. Her bladder made sure she was up soon after dawn, another sign of her advancing age.

She didn’t mind getting old, it was just another part of life, but that wasn’t to say she enjoyed being at the beck and call of her aging organs.

Stepping back into the camp after taking care of business, Wynne found a curious thing on her pack. A reddish scarf, knitted, with little yellow patterns in it, long enough to wrap around herself several times.

Even though the girl was not in sight, it could only have come from Warden Surana.

She was a sweet thing, to think of her. The cold had been getting to Wynne, Surana knew, biting at her arthritic joints, thankfully there was no snow or ice on the ground to slip on and trudge through. The Spirit of Faith helped her keep going, but it could not reverse time.

Wynne took the scarf and looped it around herself, feeling the warmth that it brought. Maybe she was imagining it, but it felt warmer than it should, like Surana had warmed it before she left it. It would be the kind of thing she would do. 

_When had she found the time to make this?_

**

Sten sat up when he awoke, quickly and efficiently. No lounging about like the young sometimes did. No, he had slept and it was now time to be productive.

He packed away his things in an orderly fashion, but there was a small package near where his head lay, something that did not belong to him.

He cautiously picked it up, too small to be a threat.

Opening it, he found several small molasses cookies.

Strange.

He looked around the camp, but no one was nearby to have dropped them. Surely they would have noticed.

Were they a gift?

Southerners had a need to give gifts, for no reason or pointless ones. One of the many strange customs he was still getting used to.

Sten should throw them away, he really didn’t need sweets, but he found himself holding them closer and eating one anyways, savoring the delicious taste.

_Who gave them to him?_

**

Morrigan exited her tent as the sun rose, her campsite a short distance from the others, the way she preferred things.

Another day on the road on their way to Orzammer. Their strange little band that stood before the Blight, growing stranger with each day. Never when she imagined leaving the Wilds could she have thought her life would end up this way.

At least Warden Surana was competent.

Something glittered on the ground near the entrance to her tent, glittering brighter than the frost-covered grass.

After surveying the area, she crouched down, picking up the thing, rolling it over in her hand.

A necklace, a leather corded necklace with red, gold, and black glass beads strung in a pattern.

Pretty, if not valuable.

Still, Morrigan felt her lips quirk up. Warden Surana must have left it for her. The Warden valued her perspective, talking to her often and this was not the first gift she had received, but the first, she suspected, made by the Warden’s own hand.

That made her stop, clutching the necklace close. Had…no. Not even her mother had ever made her a gift, just to give it to her.

If a stray tear rose to Morrigan’s eye, she would never say, but she lifted the gift up and set it over her head onto her neck, fingers running over the beads, counting each precious one.

_Why didn’t Warden Surana give it to me in person?_

**

Alistair was one of the last to wake, as usual, forcing himself up, bleary eyed and yawning. He was learning to sleep through the nightmares, which he wasn’t entirely sure was a good thing, but hey, more sleep. Got to look at the positives. 

Looking around the camp, some of the others were already packed and prepared for the day of travel ahead. Wynne and Leliana sat by the fire chatting and he waved at them, before setting about picking up his own things.

The Blight was well, blighting. Needed to get moving.

It wasn’t until he started to roll up his sleep roll that he saw it. A tiny little mabari, stitched together with scraps of fabric and with small button eyes.

A little plush thing.

Looking at it closer, it even had kaddis stitched into it, in warden blue. If a plush mabari could grin, this one was grinning.

Alistair himself let a grin cover his face easily, the mabari fitting in his hand. He grew up around Mabari, yeah, but he never had one of his own, not even a plush one.

He eyed Wynne by the fire, but no, it wasn’t her, was it?

Had to be Surana, his fellow Warden, making him a gift like this in the middle of everything else.

_Maker, I’m so lucky she’s here._

**

“Warden, what is the meaning of this?” Shale’s voice cut through the camp, the golem holding up the cracked geode left for her.

Surana cringed, hoping that she could have gone unnoticed. Surana hadn’t known what else their new companion might like, taking a guess that it was something Shale would appreciate. Hopefully she wasn’t offended and maybe the rest of the camp wouldn’t notice?

Barkspawn was happy enough with his gift. She got him a special treat, which he was well on his way to devouring, stubby tail wagging fiercely. She couldn’t very well sneak him his gift, but, oh well.

“Um, it’s a gift.” Surana said, after approaching Shale.

“Why? What purpose does it serve?” Shale asked.

“It doesn’t really serve a purpose, I just thought it was pretty, like your crystals.” Surana said, hesitating and trying to read Shale’s literal stone face.

“I suppose it is pretty.” Shale said, deadpanned.

Genuinely probably the best response Surana could hope for, so she beamed up at her.

“Warden, I did love the gift you made for me, as well.” Leliana’s voice startled Surana. When she turned, she found the rest of the camp there as well, all of them sneaking up on her. Even with her elven ears, she missed their approach. Seeing them all, some wearing their gifts, others holding them, she blushed.

“How…how did you know they were from me?” Surana asked.

“Crack deductive skills.” Alistair replied, a huge grin on his face.

“Who else would go to the trouble?” Morrigan said, rolling her eyes at Alistair, though she was wearing the necklace.

“It was very nice of you, dear.” Wynne said.

“I will wear it always, my dear Warden.” Zevran said.

“Was there a reason for the gifts?” Sten asked, to the point, as always.

“Oh, well, it’s Satinalia. I wanted to do something for it, even if it was small.” Surana said, rubbing her arm and looking at her companions, her friends.

“Wait, no, it is Satinalia already?” Alistair said, starting to count the days off on one hand.

“Of course. It is hard to keep track of such things while one travels.” Leliana commented.

“I’m glad you like the gifts.” Surana said shyly.

“We love them!” Alistair declared, surprising Surana by picking her up in a hug. “Thank you!”

Alistair felt warm, soft, secure. Surana smiled into his shoulder, returning the hug. “Bring it in everyone!” He said.

Surana looked up at him questioningly, but Wynne, Leliana, and Zev joined the hug, surrounding her. Morrigan even patted at her shoulder, though Sten and Shale stayed back, just watching them with what Surana thought were bemused expressions.

“Happy Satinalia, everyone.” Surana whispered. If she closed her eyes, she could forget about the Blight for a while, surrounded by her friends, surrounded by love.


	2. A Satinalia Exchange

They were gathered in Hawke’s mansion, for once not at the Hanged Man, their usual gathering place.

It was Satinalia and they wanted better food than the tavern could or would provide. No mystery stew of questionable edibility tonight. Though there was perhaps an overabundance of alcohol, much of it acquired by Varric and Isabela.

Orana, Bodahn, and Sandal had been given the night off to celebrate where they wanted, a bonus to spend how they wanted, so it was just Hawke and her friends there tonight.

It was the first Satinalia since her mother had passed, since Hawke had been declared Champion of Kirkwall, and she wanted to do something normal, with the people who were as close to family as she had left-Gamlen aside.

Varric was the one who suggested they do a gift exchange, pick a name from a hat randomly and get that person a gift secretly. Then they would guess who got who what, an added challenge, though as far as Hawke understood it, there was no prize for guessing correctly.

It had sounded like a fun plan, so here they were, sitting around the fireplace, full of food they all had made or brought, some fuller on alcohol, wine glasses in hand, talking and chatting about things of little consequence.

Hawke felt pleasantly warm, Barks’ head resting on her lap, and if she closed her eyes, she could pretend everything was fine.

“Well, I think it is time for gifts.” Varric said, standing by the presents stacked haphazardly on the side table. He was dressed in an obnoxious blue suit, trimmed in white and gold, unbuttoned at the front of course, had to show off that glorious chest hair. Hawke was pretty sure he bought it as a used costume from a failed play, but he did look cheery.

“Oy, I’m going first!” Isabela said, standing from the armchair she had claimed. “It better be gold.” She said as she sashayed over to the pile to find her gift, surveying them. 

It was a tall box she pulled out, wrapped in simple brown paper. Isabela shook the package and everyone could hear the sloshing sound.

“Ooo, is this what I think it is?” She said with a wide grin, pulling a dagger out to cut the paper away quickly.

“Hey! You are supposed to open it by hand!” Varric complained, trying to run this exchange.

“This is faster.” She said, opening the top. Isabela made a delighted noise and pulled out a mostly full bottle of Antivan Rum. Attached with a string was a note. She read it aloud, “Free STD testing (Limit ten uses),” before yelling and throwing the gift paper at Anders. “You’re lucky it’s a holiday!”

Anders laughed, already red-cheeked from the wine. “You never pay anyways.”

“It is called a friend discount.” Isabela said, though she had a smile on her face.

“Oh, was the gift supposed to be dirty? I don’t think mine is. Well, I don’t think the person would want it to be. Hmm…” Merrill said.

“Don’t worry, Daisy. I’m sure it’s fine.” Varric said conciliatorily. “Though Rivaini doesn’t have to guess who got her that gift.”

Isabela had popped the cork and taken a swig of it, humming her appreciation. “It’s not gold, but it will do.” She said with a wink.

“Right then, Blondie, you are up!” Varric said, picking up his own mug to take a drink. Anders swayed a bit when he stood, the alcohol affecting the skinny mage greatly. He really needed to eat more.

Anders managed to find his gift, a roughly wrapped misshapen thing.

He opened it, to pull out new lute strings and a tin of cookies.

He laughed, a little loudly. “Well, it must be Hawke who got this for me. She knows two of my lute strings broke.” He looked at her warmly. He stayed in one of the guest rooms when he dragged himself away from the clinic and she often heard him…playing.

“Not me.” Hawke said, laughing through a grimace and petting Barks’ head. “You…need more practice, Anders.”

“Then, who?” Anders asked, looking over their group.

Slowly, Aveline raised her hand.

“You bake?” Anders asked, incredulously.

“No, I did not make them. I wasn’t trying to kill you.” Aveline said with an exaggerated sigh. “Donnic did. He had guard duty, so he couldn’t come tonight.”

“Well, that’s…wait, how did you know these were my favorite?” Anders looked surprised, mostly. Hawke smiled into her drink. She may have helped Aveline pick the gift.

“Guard-Captain secret.” Aveline said. Her own cheeks were blushed red.

“Well, thank you, Aveline.”

“Nice. You did good, Red.” Varric said, chuckling. “Your turn.”

“This ought to be good.” Isabela commented.

“Shut-up, Bela.” Aveline said. It was a recent thing. No longer was Isabela “Whore.” They had reached an understanding, dare Hawke hope, mutual respect. Oh, they still poked at each other, but it was warmer now, friendlier.

Aveline retrieved a small box, wrapped in an orange paper with a golden ribbon. Tearing the paper, she opened the top of it. Pushing aside the tissue paper, she pulled out a headband, red, with marigolds stitched into with gold thread. She also pulled out a small bag that Hawke could smell from her place on the floor was coffee beans.

Expensive, yet thoughtful. Whoever got it for her picked perfectly. 

“I…” Aveline looked around the group, puzzled. “Sebastian?”

“It was not from me.” Sebastian said.

“Varric?” Aveline asked.

“Only one guess, Red.” Varric said. “But it wasn’t from me.”

Hawke saw Fenris smirk before he replied. “It was from me.” He was on his third glass of wine, something rare, something he usually only indulged in his home and even then, it was a rare thing. He felt comfortable to lower his guard around them, a fact Hawke treasured.

“Thank you, Fenris.” Aveline said, with sincerity. “This is a very thoughtful gift.”

“You should also thank Donnic when you see him again. He gave me some advice about what you might like.” Fenris replied, dipping his head in acknowledgment.

“Did you sew it yourself, Broody?” Varric asked, delighted.

“When I’m not dancing, I find sewing a productive use of time.” Fenris said, straight-faced, but his lips were twitching up at the corner.

Varric just laughed. “I would add that to my book, but who would believe it? Alright then, you’re next.”

Fenris uncrossed his legs and stretched, like a cat, before padding over to the pile of gifts. His gift was wrapped in plain paper, but the shape was rather obvious. Opening it, he pulled out a book. _The Adventures of the Black Fox and Other Tales_. A middle range book. Hawke had been teaching Fenris to read and this book would be perfect for his reading level. A note was enclosed.

“What’s it say?” Isabela asked. She was now draped across her chosen armchair, cradling her gift against her breasts between drinks.

“It is a list of books to read.” Fenris said with a small smile. He looked up. “Thank you for the gift, Sebastian.”

“You are quite welcome, but how did you know it was from me?” Sebastian asked.

“Your handwriting.” Hawke let out a laugh, it shouldn’t surprise her anymore how quickly Fenris picked things up, but it did. He had an eye for detail.

“Alright, alright.” Varric said. “Choir boy, you are up!” 

“Very well.” Sebastian said, gracefully walking over to the pile. He had drunk as much as the rest of them, yet he held his alcohol as well as Isabela. Hawke really needed to find out more about his past, there had to be some good stories there, he sometimes blushed when asked.

Sebastian found his gift, wrapped in a thin, but pretty fabric, pinned closed. Opening it, he held a wooden carved statuette of Andraste.

That by itself wouldn’t have made it obvious who gave it to him, but the added painted Dalish designs along the figure did, delicate, yet they complimented the statuette well.

“Thank you, Merrill. This is a beautiful piece.” Sebastian said, slightly bowing to her.

“Oh, you are welcome. One of the elves in the Alienage was making them and I thought you would like it! I do enjoy our comparative religious conversations.”

“Wait, Daisy, how did you think that might be a ‘dirty’ gift.” Varric asked.

“Moving on!” Hawke said, as Sebastian started looking a little too perplexed at the figure he held and Merrill shrugged.

“Fine, fine!” Varric laughed. “Daisy, pick out your gift!”

“Oooh.” She said, picking up the box with her name on it. Hawke worked to keep a straight face, to show no reaction, but Maker it was hard. Merrill opened the box and started pulling out a set of two fancy little knives, with engraved hilts. The hilts were decorated with flowers and interwoven vines. They also had little sheaths that Merrill could attach to her belt.

“These are lovely!” Merrill said, holding them to her chest, beaming at their group. Anders muttered about blood magic, but Isabela flicked his ear in response, he rubbed his ear, but let it go, shaking his head. Hawke thought it was more habit than actual concern, after all these years. Merrill had proved herself capable. “Isabela, did you get these for me?”

“No, I didn’t kitten.” Isabela said. “But I can show you how to use them later.”

“Oh, Hawke?” Merrill asked.

“It ‘twas me.” Hawke said, raising her glass to her. 

“Thank you, Hawke, I love them!” Merrill said, bounding over to bend down and give Hawke a quick hug.

“Hawke, your turn.” Varric said.

Hawke tried to stand and wobbled a bit, steadying herself against Barks, who stood up with her. She found her gift, rectangular and wrapped up in paper.

Unwrapping it, she found a book of Ferelden tales. A very specific book. 

Old stories. Ferelden stories. Torn and tattered, but the same edition she had growing up that now was probably destroyed in the corpse of a house left behind in Lothering.

The same one her father would read to her and the same one she then read to Carver and Bethany.

How he got it, she didn’t know. More things were imported to Ferelden than exported these days, the marks of the Blight lasting years. It had to be him, she knew she told him about this book, after they left Carver buried under a mound of stones in the Deep Roads.

_He remembered…_

She ran her fingers over the binding, fighting tears. She looked up at him, eyes shining. “Thank you, Varric.”

“That’s not your whole gift, open the cover.” He looked pleased, though uncomfortable.

Lifting the cover, a slip of paper fell out. Retrieving it, she found a voucher for 1 free drink at the Hanged Man. She snorted, pushing back the tears. “Only one free drink?”

“Well, you already put your drinks on my tab.” Varric said.

“Fine.” She stuck her tongue out and deflected. “Open your gift, already!”

She held the book close, sliding back to her place on the floor, watching as Varric dramatically opened the last present. Inside, there were several different inks in little bottles and what looked like a manuscript.

“Who got me a copy of my own book?” Varric said, side-eyeing Isabela. “My own unpublished book?”

“Open it!” She shouted back.

He did and then he started yelling while sputtering. “Why is it all marked up in red?”

“I made some edits. I thought that would be the best gift. The story should be much bolder and needed more sex.” Isabela said. “You’re welcome.”

“Really, Rivaini?”

“I know. It is a great gift. Happy Satinalia!”

Before their good-natured argument could go further. Hawke grabbed her glass and raised it up, calling out across the room. “Happy Satinalia, everyone!”

Her friends, her family, chorused around her the returned greeting, Barks barking his own celebration. They were laughing, smiling…

Happy.

It was the best Satinalia Hawke had had in ages.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a third one for the DAI crew, but that one is still percolating!


End file.
